


A Little Bit Like Fate

by Galaxie



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Fluff, Getting Together, IDAHOT, It's really mostly fluff, Kissing, M/M, Mentions of homophobia, Protests
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-17
Updated: 2019-05-17
Packaged: 2020-03-06 19:58:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18858046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Galaxie/pseuds/Galaxie
Summary: “So,” Harry starts. “Since I heard you and your friend are not getting married, uhm... Would it be appropriate to ask you to stay for the kiss-in?”“Really?” Louis says, light and playful. “And who would I be kissing?” He looks up and offers a sweet smile, perfectly innocent.“Oh, I don’t know.” Harry is playing along, keeping his tone airy, but he takes a step forward and smirks. “With those cheekbones, I think you could kiss whoever you wanted.”Or:Louis stumbles upon a kiss-in protest for LGBTQ rights, and he meets Harry. They click. It feels a little bit like fate.





	A Little Bit Like Fate

**Author's Note:**

> Hello hello hello!
> 
> Today is the IDAHOT - International Day Against Homophobia and Transphobia. There are still many countries in which the oppression against queer people is enforced by law, and there are still countries which go in the wrong direction.  
> [Here](https://edition.cnn.com/2019/05/05/asia/brunei-lgbt-death-penalty-intl/index.html) is an article about what happened in Brunei (it's also explained in the fic if you haven't heard about it, don't worry). There are a lot of nuances to the situation though, so feel free to do some research if you're interested!
> 
> In the meantime, here you go with a little one-shot! It ended up five times longer than I had planned, but oh well. Just so you know, Opal doesn't exist, but [Stonewall UK](https://www.stonewall.org.uk/) does! And obviously, this is a work of fiction and I am not trying to make a statement about anyone's sexuality.
> 
> One last thing, English is not my first language and this hasn't been beta'd (though I did read it a billion times) so if you spot a typo or a mistake, feel free to kindly point it out. Thank you.
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

 

In a small act of rebellion, Louis is wearing Vans. Granted, Louis is pretty much always wearing Vans, but today, he has a 10:30 AM appointment to visit the wedding venue at the Dorchester Hotel, posh place extraordinaire, so it feels like a _big deal_. The Dorchester has an upstanding reputation as a venue, located as it is in the middle of London between Hyde Park and Bond Street. It’s also the most expensive venue on the list Louis’ mum and stepdad have made.

Louis loves his mum, he really does. Obviously, he wants her to have the wedding she’s always dreamt about. And if that means he has to spend his Fridays visiting wedding venues, then so be it. But he doesn’t have to like it. Hence, the Vans. The small act of rebellion.

He drags his flatmate Liam along, too, in exchange for a wedding invitation. And, because Liam knows how to negotiate, another one for his girlfriend of three years, Sophia. Louis can’t refuse; he really needs the opinion of someone who is in a long-term relationship, which Liam happens to be.

Louis... Well. His never-ending string of dates never seems to lead anywhere. No chemistry, or clashing political views, or different levels of commitment, or simply the guy being a huge wanker, always seem to be the downfall of his relationships.

So, when the Dorchester venue employee asks him and Liam which of them is getting married (because, as Louis has come to learn, the gay option is never, ever suggested, damn heteronormativity), Louis just laughs and shrugs off the question. Liam always ends up explaining.

 

The venue at the Dorchester is nice. It’s certainly big enough for the entire list of guests they have, and it’s bright, has a good sound system, and tons of benefits for the wedding party, like a spa day for the bride a week before the big day. For an hour, they go through all of the rooms and additional services while Liam babbles endlessly with their guide about boring things like hardwood floors and the traditional number of plates at the rehearsal dinner.

Louis is so glad he brought Liam along, honestly. He would hate having to make that kind of small talk, and Liam doesn’t even seem to be faking it. Maybe he isn’t, huh. He has been dating Sophia for three years, after all.

When their guide excuses himself at the end of the appointment, he lets them stay for a bit longer. Liam wants to have another look around, so Louis indulges him. Liam looks serious; he’s probably figuring out how to propose to Sophia right this moment. Louis snaps a few pictures to send to his mum later, and once Liam is done admiring the five chandeliers – _five_! What do they need five chandeliers for?! – they walk out of the wedding venue.

“So?” Liam asks once they’re riding the lift down to the lobby.

“It’s... nice,” Louis hesitates. “It lacks charm, though, innit?”

“Well, I liked it, but I can see your point. It just feels like a generic rich people place, is that it?”

“Yeah, exactly,” Louis says. They both look around the most expensive-looking lift they have ever seen in their lives. They share a quick glance, and chuckle quietly.

The lift gets to the ground floor with a ding, and suddenly they’re in the lobby. It was empty when they walked in, but now, there are about six people, men in suits and women in dresses and high heels, cluttering the reception desk. They’re all muttering, seemingly complaining to the poor receptionist, a girl in her twenties who looks absolutely terrified. Louis shoots her an apologetic look, but doesn’t stop. He doesn’t need half a dozen of rich people screaming in his face, and he really wants to get out of here.

With a relieved sigh, Liam and Louis finally walk past security and out of the doors. However, the relief is short-lived, because they are instantly met with the reason for all the hotel guests’ complaints, and it’s neither quiet nor discreet.

There, right in front of the door, is a group of... protesters? There are about fifteen people, in any case, and they are carrying cardboard signs. They don’t look aggressive, though, simply standing there and speaking and walking around. Louis frowns; they don’t look aggressive, sure, but he’s been to protests before and he knows how quickly they can turn sour. Especially ones in front of posh establishments like the Dorchester Hotel.

The police don’t seem to be anywhere, though, and as Louis looks around, he spots two rainbow flags and a couple of other LGBTQ colours. He immediately relaxes, like an automatic response. These are _his people_. He doesn’t know what they’re protesting against, but they’re most probably friendly.

In fact, as they take a few more steps, a young black woman appears in front of them. She’s smiling, and holding a pile of flyers.

“Hi!” she says enthusiastically. Louis guesses that whatever her cause is, they probably look more like potential supporters than whoever walked out of the hotel before them.

“Um, hi,” Liam says, hesitant.

“Hi?” Louis ends up saying after a beat, because they’re both looking at him.

“I’m Leigh-Anne,” she offers with a friendly smile. They both introduce themselves, and she politely nods. “Alright.” She waits a beat, and then – “Have you guys ever heard about Brunei?”

As far as introductory questions go, it’s pretty unexpected.

“Um,” Liam says, very eloquently. “What, like, the country?”

“Yes! It’s a tiny country on the island of Borneo. Well, the Sultan of Brunei has been introducing the Sharia law since 2014, like, in stages. The latest stage he’s announced is a law against homosexual sex: gay people can get stoned if they are caught having sex. Or, well, it’s a bit more complicated than that since it’s actually a law against indecency, so it applies to straight people too. But in any case, the situation of LGBTQ people in Brunei is pretty tense, and passing laws that make them more vulnerable is not the right direction.”

“That’s terrible!” Liam says.

“Yeah,” Louis quietly agrees. He very much shares Liam’s indignation, but his heart aches, too, for the people _like him_ in Brunei. It could have been him, it could have, and that’s fucking terrifying. He’s not sure that Liam, despite all his righteous fury, gets it. “It is.”

Leigh-Anne stares at him for a few seconds, and a shadow crosses her face. She looks like she understands.

“Hasn’t the introduction of this law been put on hold, though?” Louis says.  
“It has, sort of, because of international pressure. But it might be back on track after the Ramadan. And, well, I’m not going to lie, we had organised this before they announced the delay and we weren’t going to cancel everything.”

Liam and Louis nod.

“Celebrities like George Clooney, Elton John or Ellen DeGeneres have called to boycott hotels in the world that are owned by the Sultan. And the Dorchester is one of them, so, here we are, raising awareness and informing the people who are staying at the hotel, so hopefully you’ll sympathise. And we’re organising a kiss-in right here as well, at 1 PM. People of the same gender are going to kiss on this plaza, so hopefully we can get some great pictures and the message across. But, uhm – I mean, unless you want to, I’m not asking you to join. However, I was hoping that you guys could file an official complaint with the hotel? As guests staying there?”

Louis and Liam share a bewildered look, and look back at her, eyes wide. Leigh-Anne seems confused, and a bit annoyed, too. That must be a reaction she’s seen more than once, then, _Oh yes, I absolutely support your cause, but I’m not going to do anything myself against it even though I could_. Typical rich people behaviour.

Liam is the first to get a hold of himself. “No no no, _no_ , we’re not hotel guests!”

“Oh my god,” Louis adds, mock-offended, “Do we really look like those posh people inside?”

“Well, not really.” Leigh-Anne raises her hands in defence. “I wasn’t _sure_ , but you did just walk out of there!”

It’s a fair point. Louis tells her so with an apologetic shrug, and she seems to relax a little. At least the lovely smile is back on her face.

“So if you’re not staying at the hotel, what are you doing here? Do you work there?”

“No, actually,” Liam says, and looks at Louis.

“We had an appointment to take a look around the wedding venue.”

“Oh my god, you guys are getting married? Congratulations! You should actually take part in the kiss-in!” She looks genuinely happy for them, and very excited at the prospect of two more people in her protest. It’s probably a bit mean to laugh, but Louis can’t help himself. He only feels slightly guilty when her face falls.

“No, no,” he corrects in-between chuckles. “We’re not – We’re just friends, um, flatmates. But yeah. Friends.”

“And I’m _straight_ ,” Liam says, too forcefully.

“That, too,” Louis agrees. He bites his lip, trying to decide if he should call Liam out for the slightly homophobic feel behind his remark. He knows Liam didn’t mean it that way, but –

He doesn’t have much time to ponder it, though; Leigh-Anne does it for him, in a light tone: “Being called gay isn’t an insult, you know?”

Liam looks taken aback.

“I wasn’t... I didn’t – I mean...” He stutters, looks at Louis for help, but unfortunately, Louis agrees.

“She’s right, Payno. I _know_ you didn’t mean it like that,” he adds when he sees that Liam is frowning and is most probably going to argue. “It’s just that, it feels like you take offence when someone mistakes you for a gay person, and that has homophobic undertones.”

“Oh,” Liam says. The understanding is clear on his face. “Sorry. I just wanted to set the record, well... straight.” Leigh-Anne snorts. “But I can see how it shows some kind of... internalised prejudice, I guess. Sorry.”

Leigh-Anne chuckles again and Liam looks up at her with a hesitant smile on his face. Louis isn’t worried; Liam has the best puppy dog face out of everyone he knows, and at the end of the day, he’s a good guy, and trying his hardest to be a good ally. And he is, despite the occasional internalised slip-up.

“It’s actually me mum who’s getting married,” Louis explains. “She doesn’t live in London, so she asked me to have a look at the venues for her. Liam is just my best mate who agreed to tag along because I asked nicely.”

“Believe it or not,” Leigh-Anne laughs, “but I’m actually here because my flatmate dragged me along, too.” Louis raises an eyebrow. “Jade, she’s over there,” she adds, and points to a short young woman in a dark green dress talking animatedly to a few lads. She seems to be scolding them, actually, despite being at least a head shorter than all of them. The man on the left, a handsome brown-skinned guy, mutters something Louis can’t hear, to which the tallest of them, some guy with an overdone quiff, responds with a gagging gesture. They all laugh. The one on the right, whose hair falls to his shoulders, actually bends down from how hard he’s cracking up.

Apparently Liam and Leigh-Anne were watching too, because the girl giggles. From where she’s standing right besides Louis, it sounds ridiculously loud.

It doesn’t matter, though, because at the sound of Leigh-Anne’s laugh, Jade turns excitedly towards her roommate. Jade quickly crosses the distance between them, abandoning her friends, and starts talking a mile a minute in a heavy Geordie accent.

“Oh my _god_ , Leigh, you’ve _got_ to see this, you know the official twitter account we made for Opal? Well, _Nick_ –” she turns back her friends, who haven’t moved, to glare at them. Tall-guy-with-a-quiff, who Louis decides must be Nick, waves back with a smirk. “– decided it would be a brilliant idea to snatch the password, right, and like, can you _believe_ he tweeted from the account?”

“Really,” Leigh-Anne says, sounding less than impressed. “And what did he tweet?”

“Well that’s the thing; he and Harry addressed a tweet to fucking Ian McKellen!”

“ _Sir_ Ian McKellen, I believe,” a voice chirps in.

Louis turns around. It’s Nick, a smirk on his face. The bloke with the long hair is hovering behind him rather awkwardly.

“To be fair,” Nick adds, “It was Harry’s idea.”

“It was _not_!” Long-haired-guy, who must be Harry, says. He shrugs his way into the circle of people, looking very offended. It sounds like they had this conversation before, probably mere minutes ago.

Louis finally gets to look at his face, and – Holy shit. The man, Harry, is _gorgeous_. He looks young, about Louis’ age or maybe younger, and he’s insanely attractive. The sharp angles of his features are softened by his hair, which falls in curly locks around his face to stop right above his shoulders. Louis wants to reach out and tuck a ringlet behind his ear. He has to clench and unclench his fist to stop himself.

“So maybe it wasn’t Harry’s idea,” Nick amends. “But he wrote the tweet!”

Harry looks like he wants to argue, so Jade turns to Leigh-Anne, exasperated. “What actually happened is that Harry wrote out a tweet to remind people of the kiss-in, you know, like a normal Opal volunteer, and Nick took his phone back, added _@IanMcKellen give us a shoutout m8?_ – literally, mate, with an ‘eight’ – and sent the tweet.”

“And he wouldn’t give me his phone back to edit the tweet,” Harry says sombrely, “so now we look like a newborn LGBT group desperate for attention.” There’s a pause, during which everyone turns to look at him. “Ohhh, right, I forgot,” he adds in a pitiful demonstration of acting skills. “We _are_.”

If the joke lacks originality, Louis finds the delivery hilarious, so he laughs. Pretty loudly. Apparently, he’s the only one charmed by Harry’s sense of humour, because everyone else either rolls their eyes or groans. Louis slowly stops giggling. Maybe it wasn’t meant as a joke, and he took it that way because he doesn’t know Harry? But then again, if it wasn’t a joke, it was pretty mean, and the boy didn’t seem _mean_.

Louis risks a glance at Harry to get a clue on how to act. His heart jumps when he finds Harry staring back.

The two boys lock eyes. Harry’s are a light colour, blue or grey or green, he can’t really tell, but his gaze has a sort of weird intensity that has Louis’ heartbeat rising steadily. Suddenly all he can focus on is Harry. The little smile that is slowly tugging at the corner of his mouth. The plumpness and the rosy colour of his lips. The rise and fall of his broad shoulders in tune with his breathing. The ink on his skin, peeking out from beneath the patterned shirt he’s wearing.

Louis doesn’t even notice he zoned out of the rest of the conversation until he’s shaken out of his reverie by a loud shout of “Harry! Nick! Get your arses over there!” in an Irish accent.

Leigh-Anne and Nick scramble away from each other to give way to a blonde bloke carrying a stack of cardboard, a bundle of white fabric that seems to be a bedsheet, and a toolbox. He’s red in the face and breathing heavily.

“You tall people _know_ I can’t reach the top of the canopy!” The new guy points an accusing finger at successively Nick and Harry.

“Yeah, yeah,” Nick laughs. “We’ll help. Shoot, Horan. What do you need?”

While Nick and Harry gather around the Irish lad to listen to his explanations, Louis takes a look at Liam. He hopes his friend won’t want to leave right now: Louis is actually having fun. And, well, he’d be lying if he said he doesn’t want to hang around to get to talk to Harry.

But in fact, it appears that Liam has taken a step towards Jade and Leigh-Anne.

“So uhm, what... Like, what is Opal exactly?” his flatmate asks. Liam’s voice is unsure, like he thinks maybe the girls will take offense if he suggests he doesn’t know the group. Louis doesn’t either, but from Harry’s comment about how they’re just starting out, maybe that’s to be expected. He’s interested, though, so he gets closer to Liam to listen to the answer.

Jade literally lights up upon hearing Liam’s question. “Oh! We’re a newly created LGBTQ group advocating for our rights and against homophobia. Opal sort of stands for ‘Organisation of Protest Against LGBTQphobias’, but that’s, like, non-official, because we had some problems with using the L in the acronym to stand for LGBTQ, because the L already stands for lesbians, and we’re not just a lesbian organisation, so.”

“The truth is,” Leigh-Anne says with a smile, “she really wanted it to spell Opal, because it’s a rainbow gem, so it was very fitting.”

“Exactly,” Jade says, and then Louis can see the _exact_ moment where she’s struck by an idea. “Are you guys interested in joining? We’re London-based and, well, for now we’ve mostly been following Stonewall’s line of action, since they’re the biggest LGBTQ charity and we’re just starting out, but –”

“Why create a different organisation, then?” Louis says. “Why not join Stonewall instead?”

“Oh, Nick and I used to volunteer there, but we wanted to take a more direct approach. I mean, Stonewall is great, but they’re at a national level and there’s just a lot of bureaucracy, right? So we thought, with a smaller, community-based group, we might be able to do more, you know?”

She sounds really passionate. Louis has done his fair share of activism in Uni, but since then, despite always thinking fondly of his community, he has never wanted to actively do something. Today, though, between Jade’s obvious drive and the rest of the group’s apparent enthusiasm and energy, Louis thinks he might thrive here if he decided to join.

“Plus,” Jade is still speaking, “we’re trying to really tackle hate, like, on a basic level, you know? Not through legislation, but by educating people, locally.”

“Doing the dirty, if you will,” a voice cuts in. It’s Harry, and he’s smiling at Louis brightly.

The Irish lad from earlier, standing behind him, mutters something Louis can’t make out, and Harry turns to him: “Yeah, uhm, you go on without me; I’ll just be a moment.” More complaining. “Please, Niall? I’ll cook tonight?” The Irish bloke seems to ponder for a second, but ends up nodding. He turns around and walks away with Nick.

Which leaves Harry standing there, alone, staring at Louis, only an arm’s length apart.

Louis barely registers Liam asking the girls something else – he doesn’t care. He has a well fit lad in front of him, who seems to be just as into him, if his appreciative gaze is any indication. Louis mentally adds Harry’s existence to the list of reasons he could be convinced to join Opal. They’re really starting to pile up.

The main one, though, the most important reason to join, Louis decides right then, is definitely the gold flecks in Harry’s startling green eyes.

“So,” Harry starts. His timbre is deeper than Louis registered the first few times. It sounds like velvet, rugged soft velvet. It doesn’t make any sense, but somehow the comparison is fitting. His voice is slow, too, and Louis kind of wants to hear it forever. “Since I heard you and your friend are not getting married, uhm... Would it be appropriate to ask you to stay for the kiss-in?”

He adds in a bright smile. He has dimples, Louis realises. He was already enthralled, but now that he knows he has _dimples_ , well. If Louis gets out of there without his number, he already knows he will regret it. Even though he refuses to play the blushing virgin. The boy might have game, but so does Louis. Harry doesn’t know what he’s in for.

“Really?” Louis says, light and playful. “And who would I be kissing?” He looks up and offers a sweet smile, perfectly innocent.

“Oh, I don’t know.” Harry is playing along, keeping his tone airy, but he takes a step forward and smirks. “With those cheekbones, I think you could kiss whoever you wanted.”

“Anyone, huh?” Louis raises an eyebrow. He looks around slowly, pretends to search for a potential kissing partner. He definitely wouldn’t mind kissing the guy in front of him, but he’s not going to make it easy for him.

He spots Niall and Nick trying to manoeuvre a ladder against the canopy of the hotel. A security guard is with them, and Louis can’t quite figure out if the bloke is trying to help or yell at them. A bit farther, he sees another group setting up signs. On the side, two girls are snogging. It’s quite ridiculous, Louis thinks, to be kissing _now_ when there is a kiss-in protest happening less than – he checks his phone – an hour and a half. He knows he’s only jealous, of course. If he had someone to kiss, he would be kissing him at all hours of the day, too.

Although, for the first time in a long time, someone to kiss doesn’t seem like a far-fetched dream.

As if on cue, Harry leans in slowly to reach Louis’ ear. “See anyone who strikes your fancy?” he asks in a low, husky tone. And, oh, _okay_ , bedroom voice. That’s fine. Louis’ breath catches in his throat. He’s pretty sure his heart is usually not that quick, too, but he has _game_ , dammit, he’s not gonna let this (admittedly stunning) boy one-up him at _flirting_ of all things.

He takes a small step back, and for a split second, he sees doubt crossing Harry’s face, but then Louis looks him up and down, slowly, very obviously checking him out.

Harry raises an eyebrow in a silent teasing question. Louis looks up from under his eyelashes and worries his bottom lip between his teeth. Deciding to throw caution to the wind and go all in, he releases his lip and raises his chin, defiant. “Maybe,” he says, voice all breath.

Harry’s eyes widen, and in one split second, he loses all his bravado. Louis throws in a wink for good measure. Harry coughs forcefully, hiding his face in his hands. It’s rather adorable to see him all flustered.

“I’m Louis,” Louis offers in a warm, much more family-friendly tone.

“Harry.”

“So I’ve heard.”

Their eyes meet again, shy. It’s a surprising feeling after the _very_ flirty exchange they just had, but Louis isn’t bothered. He really wants to see where this goes, as in, hopefully further than just a kiss. A tentative smile tugs at his lips, and he’s about to speak again, maybe ask what made Harry join Opal, when –

“Haz, mate, it’s whenever you want.”

Harry and Louis turn simultaneously, startled. The man who just spoke is quite handsome, Louis thinks. Objectively, he’s probably more attractive than Harry, but as opposed to Harry’s endearing cuteness, this guy is much more of the dark and broody type. His brown skin stands out from under the white t-shirt he has on, and _oh_! It’s the third bloke, who was talking to Jade along with Nick and Harry, before she came to greet Louis and Liam as potential future members.

“Uh, Z, I’m –”

“Yeah, no, we’re waiting for you to put up the signs, so, you’re coming.” He looks over at where Jade, Leigh-Anne and Liam are still chatting, and adds rather loudly: “Jade, nobody wants you to throw a fit when it’s done, so if you would kindly wrap this up and come see?”

Jade turns around and raises an eyebrow at the newcomer.

“The almighty Zayn Malik needs my help? That’s a first, innit?”

“Well,” Leigh-Anne says, “you did make a fuss last time because the signs weren’t up to your standards, so, he’s not wrong.”

“Is it gang-up-on-Jade day and I didn’t know?”

“It’s always gang-up-on-Jade day, love.” Then, in a somewhat okay imitation of a Geordie accent, she adds: “When I climbed Kilimanjaro –”

“Ugh, okay, okay, _fine_ , thank you Leigh. I’ll come make sure you don’t fuck up, Malik.” She rolls her eyes and takes a step towards the tan guy – Zayn.

“Um,” Liam says at the same time. “Louis, I think that’s our cue?”

Disappointment sinks in Louis’ chest. He already knows he’s having a lot of fun and he doesn’t want to leave. Should he tell Liam?

For a moment, he watches Harry laugh at Zayn, Leigh-Anne and Jade’s banter. He tries to make up his mind. Liam is waiting for him to say something, after all, and he really should go. Yet, he doubts. He doesn’t want to go, and this was fun, it was, but it can’t really last, can it? Harry looks up then, and they exchange a loaded glance. Filled with longing and silent pleas and hope and hope and _hope_.

It’s scary.

Louis stares. It’s scary, but in a good way. This – this distinct bond he feels with Harry – it’s new, exciting; of course it’s gonna be scary. Harry stares back, and the doubt vanishes into thin air.

“Actually,” he says, eyes fixed on Harry, “I think I’m gonna stay for a bit.”

“Right,” Liam says. He can’t see him but he can _hear_ his eyeroll. “Of course you are. Well. Have fun.”

Louis tears his eyes off Harry and throws his flatmate a grin. “Believe me, I most certainly will.”

In a few steps, Liam has closed the distance between them and pulls him into a hug. “Sorry to ditch you,” Louis says quietly. Liam laughs and pulls away, a malicious glint in his eyes.

“Nah, it’s alright. I’ll see you home later and you can tell me everything. Stay safe!”

And then, before Louis has time to react, he’s gone.

Harry, who has followed the whole exchange, looks at Louis, more seriously than he was expecting. “Uhm, I think I need to be over there to set everything up,” he drawls, “or Zayn will actually yell at me, and, well, uhm, I’d rather not.”

Louis nods. He can’t help but feel a bit let down, though. It did feel like they were getting on rather well, and now –

“Care to give us a hand?” Harry says. Louis looks back up at him. He’s grinning widely. Really, it’s impossible not to smile back.

“I’d love to.”

 

Under Jade’s orders, they set up half a dozen signs on the canopy of the hotel. The signs are lovely, done with a lot of care – Zayn gazes up lovingly once they’re up, so Louis figures out pretty quickly he’s the one who made them. The kiss-in is supposed to start at 1 PM. They are done with the set-up by noon.

Niall and Zayn make a run to the nearest Tesco and come back with sandwiches for everyone, including Louis. They buy two packs of Stella, too, but Jade takes one look at the beers and snatches them to store them in her car, because ‘We’re here to change people’s opinions, we need to look exemplary’ or something.

A security guard comes, three times, to ask them to leave. Leigh-Anne successfully distracts him by talking, first about the legislation in Brunei – the issue at hand – and then about literally anything else that crosses her mind. In the end, she somehow figures out the guy is a fan of Greg James, the radio host. Nick, who appears to have some weird connections, gets Greg James on the phone to ask the guard to back the fuck down.

Two managers, too, come out successively to yell at them, but the first one is gay, so he gives a quick thumb up and lets them be.

The second one is more of a hassle, but Harry says they have Ian McKellen’s support and threatens to call him. It’s a very obvious lie, and Harry is a terrible liar, but apparently the Greg James thing spread quickly, because the manager looks slightly alarmed and goes back inside. They’re not bothered any more after that.

Well, at least by the staff. The customers – a whole other story.

Louis quickly figures out that the average Dorchester guest is not just rich but filthy rich. Like, has-lunch-with-Kendall-Jenner rich, or has-five-Rolex-watches-in-case-they-lose-one rich. Which makes them for the most part, well, not very open-minded. And not very likely to be sympathetic to the fate of LGBTQ people in Brunei either.

Harry and him together, though, manage to convince a few. They’re never as successful as when Louis makes up some kind of fake story about his nonexistent relationship with Harry – ‘yeah, Brunei was our first vacation as a couple, so it’s rather heartbreaking to hear and we want to have an impact, you know’. It’s smart, too, because it implies that Harry and Louis are a) gay and b) rich. Not like the first one is wrong, but. The filthy rich staying at the Dorchester don’t dare making a homophobic comment. Nobody calls them out on how fake the stories are, either. Louis takes it as a compliment on his acting skills, but truth be told, he doesn’t have to try too hard to act enamoured with Harry.

Hearing Harry’s fond giggles every time he adds a silly detail – ‘we almost set fire to a palm tree when we tried to set up a candlelit dinner, _ahhh_ , good times’ – he suspects the feeling might be mutual.

 

By half past noon, more Opal volunteers start to afflux, so Louis and Harry take a break. They sit together next to the fountain, surrounded by rose bushes, and they talk. Louis learns Harry used to work in a bakery, he has a sister, and Niall is his flatmate – who does none of the cooking but all of the cleaning. Louis also learns that Harry was the first official Opal member outside of Jade and Nick and that he _cares_ , a lot, about so many things. He’s proud of it, it shows, and Louis watches, mesmerised, as he stands straighter and his eyes light up when he talks about marching for the NHS, free university, equal pay, abortion in Ireland.

Harry asks about Louis’ job, fascinated to learn he’s a teacher. He asks about his studies, his friends and family, why he moved to London. They share coming out stories, tattoos meanings, uni memories, views on celebrities and music and life and politics and Brexit and the current state of the world. They find out they attended the same Script concert in 2009. Louis kind of wants to call it fate.

The conversation is easy, flows naturally. There aren’t any awkward pauses or momentary silences. It’s perfect, really. They click. They click like Louis hasn’t clicked with anyone in years. The more he learns about Harry, the more he wants to know about him. It’s a never-ending loop that he doesn’t want to break, all too happy to absorb everything the boy tells him.

And they flirt, too, quite a lot. It’s no secret that they both find the other attractive, and that they are most likely going to kiss when the time comes for the kiss-in itself. It’s a dizzying thought, to know Louis’ soon going to be kissing this brilliant boy, with his bright eyes and his fascinating curls.

 

When one o’clock strikes, Jade calls for everyone to gather around. She’s standing on the hood of a car; Louis is quickly learning to not be surprised by anything Jade does ever, so he doesn’t question it. He doesn’t ask about the megaphone she’s holding, either.

Instead, he looks around, quite surprised to realize there are at least fifty people waiting for the protest to start. He was so lost in his own little world with Harry that he didn’t even notice the steady flow of arrivals.

Jade bends down to tell Nick something, and quickly comes back up. She looks at the crowd, appreciative. “Alright, well, thank you all for coming. In case some of you don’t know, I’m Jade Thirlwall, this is Nick Grimshaw.” A lone cheer echoes through the crowd at Nick’s name. “We organised today’s protest for the International Day Against Homophobia and Transphobia. When I give the signal, you can start kissing your partners – or don’t wait for the signal, Adam, that’s fine too. There’s no set time, but we planned on starting tidying up by three if you’re all okay with that.”

“If some of you guys – Sam, please, you _specifically_ asked for that, listen to me. If you guys don’t want to be on the pictures that our boy Niall is gonna take – everybody say thank you Niall – I’m going to ask you to move towards the hotel, so you can be at the back of the group. Jesy, you good? You’re actually doi... alright, okay. Okay!” She chuckles a little bit, and her eyes fix nervously on something behind the group, or inside the hotel maybe.

Louis cranes his neck: part of the hotel staff is standing under the canopy, watching quietly. Some patrons, too, are staring, from inside. Some of them look scandalized, but others are sporting fond smiles.

It’s not so bad.

Nick says something that Louis can’t hear, and Jade speaks up again. “Well. Here we go, I guess. Be natural, have fun – yes Niall, _I know_. I was just – anyway, right, don’t look at the camera, it’s gonna look terrible or some shit. And don’t, like, go around kissing people without their consent, even if this is a kiss-in protest, and –”

Louis leans towards Harry, a hand on Harry’s shoulder, hot breath tickling the boy’s neck.

“What do you think, Harold? Do I have your consent to kiss you?”

“My _enthusiastic_ consent,” Harry smiles. Their proximity, and the newly established fact that they _will_ kiss since one of them finally mentioned it out loud, must be affecting him, because his voice comes out deep, husky. It makes Louis tingle in anticipation.

Harry turns his head and his eyes lock with Louis’. They shift around, clumsily, coming face to face. Louis is still grasping his shoulder, anchoring himself to the man in front of him. Jade says something, and after a round of cheering, the crowd around them starts moving in waves, languidly closing distances. They don’t notice, too caught up in each other.

Harry’s hands come to rest on Louis’ waist, eliciting a shiver that runs through his whole body. His palms are warm, secure. The hands on his waist pull him close, until they’re pressed together. Louis looks up. He finds Harry gazing down at him. He’s waiting. A small smile is playing in his lips. His plump, pink, alluring lips. Sinful, really.

Louis surges up and kisses him. The hand which isn’t grasping Harry’s shoulder comes up to grip the back of his neck, and bring him down. Harry leans in, without resistance, to meet the pressure of Louis’ lips against his own.

It’s sweet, experimental. Harry’s lips are soft, and just slightly wet. He kisses with abandon, his hands bunching up Louis’ shirt at his waist. His curls are brushing Louis’ cheeks, and they feel incredibly inviting, so Louis slides up the hand that was resting on Harry’s shoulder to bury it in his hair, fingers grazing the back of his neck on the way.

Harry spreads his palms on Louis’ back, brings him closer still, never close enough. He kisses more forcefully, too, with just a little more pressure, just a little more intent.

Never one to be one-upped, Louis tugs a bit on the handful of curls he’s holding, and – oh. Harry _likes_ that. He whines, a sweet little sound at the back of his throat, and, well. Louis might die if he doesn’t hear it again, so he does it _again_ , the slightest force against Harry’s scalp –

Harry pulls away from the kiss then, pulls back for just a second, by just an inch. Louis pouts, disappointed. He never wanted it to stop. He opens his eyes – he doesn’t even know when he closed them. Harry’s gaze is dark, his cheeks the prettiest shade of red. They take a deep breath at the same time, panting, hearts hammering in time, and they dive back in, together. It’s deeper, dirtier, more desperate.

Breathlessly, Louis tugs on Harry’s bottom lip with his teeth. He’s rewarded by the goosebumps that erupt on Harry’s arms, and by his hands, venturing lower than before, at the small of his back. It’s on the wrong side of not enough, so Louis opens his mouth, dares to breathe in Harry’s air, to taste him, finally. He’s been aching for it all day. Or so it feels like.

Harry responds in kind, tongues stroking each other, softly, surprisingly tender even though at the same time, his hands fall to Louis’ bum. He squeezes for a moment before sliding his hands back up, roaming over his back.

Harry tastes like sweetness and comfort. He tastes like something else, too. Something distinct, new, that Louis wants to taste again and again until he can pinpoint exactly the flavour. He’d put it in a small glass bottle, and he would keep it all to himself. He would call it _Harry_ , he’d call it _love_ , and maybe someday, he’d call it _home_.

The kiss turns languid. It’s slower, sweeter. Their tongues slide smoothly against one another. One of Harry’s hands comes to cup Louis’ cheek. His hand is warm, and the weight of it is already familiar even though it shouldn’t be. They kiss like they’ve done it their whole lives.

They kiss like they want to do it their whole lives.

Maybe Louis does.

They pull away, breathing heavily. Louis’ heart is thundering in his chest, and the heat pooling in his belly seems to be only natural around Harry. Harry’s flushed cheeks and dilated pupils confirm that he feels the same. They stay like that for a few seconds, breathing in each other’s scent.

“Your hair’s a mess,” Louis says with a grin. It’s adorable is what it is. He wants to run his fingers through it.

Harry pouts. His lips are red and even plumper, and it’s so cute Louis just has to kiss him again. So, before he starts overthinking, he does. He leans forward and pecks him on the lips. When he pulls back, Harry is staring at him in pleased disbelief. A dimply grin splits his face, and Louis returns a smile of his own, big and genuine, his eyes crinkling.

Louis’ hand comes up to settle on Harry’s cheek, and he’s about to lean in again, unable to resist the dark-eyed look Harry is giving him, when –

“OH MY GOD!” someone yells. Louis and Harry break apart, startled, and a little worried. All the couples pull away, in various states of disarray. Everyone is looking at each other in bewilderment. What the fuck is happening? Louis slips his hand in Harry’s, who gives it a little squeeze, for comfort. He knows how wrong a protest can go, if the police show up. He really could do without being arrested right now, Louis thinks with a glance at the boy with the curls next to him.

They don’t have to wait for long before a red-in-the-face, dishevelled Nick – honestly, who was he kissing? This is a public place – stumbles before the crowd and climbs on the hood of Jade’s car. He’s brandishing his phone like it’s the eighth wonder of the world.

“Guys. _Guys_ , listen. Earlier in the day we sent a tweet from Opal’s account, as we do, to remind you about the protest, and I jokingly addressed it to Ian McKellen –”

“What, did he reply?” Zayn says from where he’s standing next to the car.

“He _did_! He replied!” Nick yells. He steps back down on the ground, and starts spinning around. “Harry! Harry, where are you?!”

Reluctantly, Louis starts letting go of Harry’s hand, but Harry squeezes tighter, effectively trapping Louis’ palm in his. He tugs him forward when he goes up to the front of the crowd. Louis follows along, heart soaring after even such a small gesture. Zayn smirks and Nick raises an eyebrow as their eyes fall on Louis’ and Harry’s linked hands, but they don’t comment.

“I hate you, did you know?” Harry tells Nick, very casually, like he’s probably told him hundreds of times. Then: “What did he say?”

“He retweeted us! Ian _fucking_ McKellen, Haz! He gave us a shoutout, like we asked –”

“Like _you_ asked, Nick, for fuck’s sake.”

Louis stifles a laugh into Harry’s shoulder.

“Details, details. Anyway, I got like fifty messages from Stonewall volunteers asking if they can meet us here, and if they do, there’s a chance some media report on it, so it looks like our protest is shaping up nicely!” Nick lights up. “Oh, and I have to find Jade!”

“She’s off snogging Perrie,” Zayn offers. He waves a hand in the general direction of the crowd. “Somewhere.”

“Hm. Okay.” Nick climbs back up on the hood of the car, and shouts: “Jade! I have two hundred people from Stonewall who wanna come here! Wherever you are, come help, this protest is going to _thrive_!” Most of the crowd cheers, and couples start making out again in celebration. Even Nick jumps into the arms of a buff, tan guy and they don’t lose any time in devouring each other.

With a sly grin, Louis turns back to Harry.

“So glad to be part of such a thriving protest,” he says. “Aren’t you, Harold?”

Harry stares down at him for a moment. His eyes are sparkling, unfairly pretty in the sunlight. Louis looks up, and slowly, deliberately licks his lips. Harry follows the movement, fascinated.

Neither of them knows who initiates the kiss, but a second later, their lips are pressed together. But truth be told, who initiated it is unimportant. Them, kissing, is the single most unquestionable thing that has happened to Louis in a long time. It’s as natural as the tide, as gentle as the breeze. As exciting as the stars in the summer sky, magical at first glance, full of wonders if one is patient enough to let it reveal its secrets.

They melt against each other, tasting each other’s breath, lips parted, exploring hidden patterns. One of Harry’s hands rests on the back of Louis’ neck, the other on his cheek. They’re warm, and Louis feels safe. The kiss is overwhelming, toeing the line between too much and just right.

They only part because they have to, because unfortunately, they need more air than they can get while devouring each other. They stay wrapped up in each other, forehead against forehead. The world around them is quick-paced, preparing to welcome a lot of extra protesters. Some volunteers are moving their cars, others are putting supplies away.

“Do you want to get out of here?” Harry says, still breathless.

Louis raises an eyebrow. He’s not against some action, but he didn’t expect it from Harry, especially not in such a forward manner. Harry sees his expression and his eyes widen almost comically.

“No no no, I didn’t mean it like that! I mean, not that I wouldn’t – but I wasn’t going to assume... I just – I mean,” he says, visibly at loss for words.

“Hey, ‘s’alright, Curly. I was just taking the piss.” Louis starts stroking the covered skin of Harry’s hip in a comforting manner. Harry takes a deep breath and chuckles.

“Sorry,” he says. “It’s just that this place is gonna be swarmed with people in about twenty minutes, so I don’t think we have to worry about the protest, and I know where you can get the best ice cream around Hyde Park, so I was thinking I could take you there?”

It comes out like a question, and Louis is hopelessly endeared by the curly-haired boy looking down at him with big, bright, hopeful green eyes. He beams up at Harry, and they stare at each other for a few seconds, lost to the world around them that is still busy celebrating and tidying up the place.

“As a date?” Louis asks, teasing.

“As a date.”

“Okay,” he says quietly, still smiling. “If they have mint chocolate chip, you can have my number.”

“Alright.” Harry leans down to peck him on the lips, sweet and chaste and full of promises. “Since I know for a fact they do, is it too early to start planning for our second date?”

 

~

 

As it turns out, Louis learns later that Sir Ian McKellen paid the Opal protesters a visit, too. And that he and Harry missed it. With matching new numbers in each of their phones and a promise of a second date on Sunday, they can hardly bring themselves to care.

After a few weeks, it’s Harry who Louis drags along to visit venues for his mum’s wedding. It’s Harry who is standing next to him when the tour guide asks lightly if the both of them are getting married – the first time _ever_ that Louis has heard the gay option suggested. He looks at Harry, eyes desperately fond. “No”, he says, and he thinks, _not yet_.

In the end, Louis’ mum gets married at a small outdoor venue in the Yorkshire countryside. It’s a beautiful day, sunny and sweet and everything Jay wanted for her wedding. Louis wears a blue three-piece tuxedo, and Harry, in his ridiculous flowy black shirt open down to the middle, says they’ll never look more like Dorchester guests.

Four years later, he wears a custom Gucci suit to their own wedding and admits he was wrong. Louis rolls his eyes fondly, kisses him on the cheek, and turns back to his conversation with Ian McKellen, who was invited as a joke (and fond call-back) and who did in fact show up, to everyone's surprise. Nick documents everything on the various Opal social media accounts, “for future generations”. Twitter has a field day. Louis has never been happier.

It feels a little bit like fate.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you guys enjoyed it! If you did, I'd love to know, or even to read your thoughts, so feel free to leave a kudo or a comment, they're always appreciated.
> 
> Also, I'm 28shadesofpink on Tumblr, and [here](https://28shadesofpink.tumblr.com/post/184941278839/a-little-bit-like-fate-one-shot-teenup-77k) is the fic post that you can reblog. Thank you so much for reading! ♥


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